


Trust Falls and Happy Landings

by strikeyourcolors



Series: Control(led) Issues [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Facials, Immobility, Intimacy, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Injuries, Power Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 15:58:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikeyourcolors/pseuds/strikeyourcolors
Summary: The Red Hood arrives in Gotham, but an accident and the resulting injury waylay his plans for revenge.  Nightwing tries to manage the situation and slowly comes to realize things might not be as they appear.





	Trust Falls and Happy Landings

**Author's Note:**

> Back again after a long wait! Sorry about that. It looks like this series will wrap up with ten parts, the last of which will have two chapters. Contemplating a few side stories of whatnot to work in the kinks and suggestions, but we'll see. 
> 
> This gets plotty toward the end. So much for my indulgent porn series.

Trailing the Red Hood to Gotham is, in retrospect, a terrible idea. Dick hadn't been able to talk Jason out of it and eventually Jason had simply begun avoiding him on the streets of Bludhaven. Dick couldn't blame him when all they did was argue, but it left him with little recourse. He hadn't warned Bruce that Jason was even thinking of returning to Gotham. Maybe ignorance was bliss. Dick could only hope Jason would drop the stupid idea and remain where he was.

But when he arrived one night to find Jason's rooms empty of the man, Dick knew where he'd gone and knew he should have known better than to hope. And Dick followed. He called on the way, warned Bruce he was following a lead on a case of his own. No doubt Batman sees through the ruse, but there's no line of questioning. Dick isn't sure if he's relieved that his foster father is giving him space or hurt that Bruce no longer cares what he does.

But he leaves him alone, and that's what's most important. It gives Dick time and space to catch Jason, to drag him out of Gotham, and to pretend that they can go on living the way they are. Surprisingly, it's only his second night in Gotham that Jason allows himself to be found. Dick's under absolutely no illusions he found the other man through detective skills or abilities. Dumb luck, right place right time, and Red Hood deciding to get Nightwing off his tail with a little heart to heart conversation. Jason's great at disappearing physically and emotionally. Dick's surprised by how much it hurts to have Jason avoiding him. 

Gotham is a place of memories for him. He's sure it's even worse for Jason, who grew up on the streets of it. Streets Dick had never even known existed until he started patrolling with Bruce. Dick had been a circus brat with very little in the way of material possession but he'd never hurt for love, and he'd never struggled for what he needed. It hurts him now to think about how Jason grew up. He's always known that misfortune seemed to befall Jason at every turn.

Dick was lucky. Dick was always the fortunate son with enough food to fill his belly and new enough clothes to keep him warm. Jason, it seemed, never would be. Still, Dick pushes those thoughts of a long dead Robin away as he spots Red Hood, merrily launching himself into a fight. That's Jason's real strength and it should be; he's had to fight for everything in his life.

Bruce found Jason, once upon a time, on a street like this. And now Dick has found Jason again and, as far as he's concerned, he can take care of Jason now. He can keep him out of trouble. He can keep him safe. He can bring him back. Hasn't that been what he's been doing in Bludhaven? He's doing a better job of it than Bruce ever did, that's for certain. 

Then again Bruce had never tried fucking the rage out of Jason.

He dismisses that thought and that's the only reason he's not watching Jason closely enough. He sees Jason confront the thug with a gun. It should be no trouble at all, and Dick knows that interfering in Red Hood's business as Nightwing is only asking for trouble for them both. He keeps his distance usually and comes to pick up the pieces if they need picking up. But he knows if they're ever formally tied in a way that the villains can comprehend that it's only too easy to try to use one of them against the other. Jason's saved his life. Dick's hopefully saved his. He doesn't want that to become blackmail fodder for either of them.

He hears the gun go off. He hasn't been paying attention but he does now. It's too late. Jason stumbles back, and Jason falls. Backwards, off the rooftop. Dick is frozen in place, startled, stunned for a split second until he shoots a line to try to catch Jason's tumbling frame. It's a horror. It's amazement. No one has ever thrown Red Hood off balance so badly.

The second of hesitation costs him. Dick can't reach Jason before he hits the ground.

~*~*

Jason comes to because he feels like his back is on fire. He groans suddenly, arms flailing to remove whatever is attached to his back that hurts so badly. Instead of air, his hand meets flesh and that has him opening his eyes to Nightwing's worried face hovering above him. "How hurt are you?" Nightwing asks. His hands are gripping Jason's so he can't lash out. "Hood?" Someone must be close. Someone must be watching. 

"My back," Jason tells him in a grunt, because if he doesn't then he knows Dick is going to haul him up and if anything is broken, it will be made worse by Dick slinging him to his feet. Dick's always been a bit of an enthusiastic puppy, even when he's dealing with someone injured.

Nightwing's face flashes concern. "Move your legs," He orders. Jason does and there's a flash of pain, but nothing extreme. He can still feel the bullet wound in his thigh, even. "Arms," Nightwing says. Jason does that too. It hurts. A lot. He's pretty sure he yells when Nightwing lifts his arm up. But he can do it. He can move. That's a kind of sweet relief that he wasn't paralyzed on impact.

"What happened?" Red Hood whispers when he doesn't feel like he might throw up from agony alone. Faking being uninjured is a vital part of any vigilante's life. You can't let enemies know how hurt you are. In this case he's not sure he should let a friend know. Isn't sure if Dick is a friend. 

He should know that. He should believe it. Even if the last hour or so is a giant blur in his head. 

Something passes over Nightwing's expression. "You fell," He says simply. "From several stories up. I saw you fall." And, at first, Jason doesn't understand the troubled look, or the sickened fear that shows in the tight line of his mouth. Then he remembers. Dick's parents had fallen to their deaths. It had happened right in front of him. Shit. Double shit.

"I'm here," Red Hood replies. He meant to say he's fine. He'll live. Dick didn't have to watch his death this time. He doesn't know why he wants to reassure him so badly and he doesn't want to believe that Dick cares at all. But he can't find those words and he's already drifting back toward unconsciousness. It's probably for the best. This way he can't put his foot in his mouth.

~*~*~

"Crap," Dick breathes as Jason's body goes lax, the fingers laced through his own falling limp. 

A hospital would be awkward. A hospital would raise questions. Jason wouldn't appreciate a hospital. But Jason needs help. Would Jason appreciate a hospital more than the Cave? The bad guys are subdued, no one died tonight, but now Dick is torn by indecision. He wants Jason to wake up. He wants him to tell him what to do. He wants to obey that order even if he knows it's not for the best. 

He wonders when that urge began to bleed into the life he lives when he's not naked or about to be naked. 

He calls Alfred because he can't think of anyone else. Alfred is always there. Alfred has a soft spot for Jason. If Dick does this wrong, Jason will never forgive him. Dick will never forgive himself if he hurts Jason any worse. Back and neck injuries are tricky. Dangerous. He can't bluff his way through it like he might if it was just a couple of bullet wounds. Bullets are nothing for people like them. 

"Red Hood fell," Dick says when Alfred picks up the distress call. Dick hates the way his voice trembles on the last word. Over and over it repeats in some distant corner of his mind. _My parents fell_. That was how they died. Normally it wouldn't register except here's Jason, flat on his back on the ground and not getting up. "He says his back is in pain. He can move his legs and arms. Arms hurt him when he tries to lift them up, though. He needs to be checked out but I don't want to take him to a hospital.”

"Nor should you," Alfred announces primly and Dick wants to cry with relief because Alfred will know what to do. There's a pause. "The Cave has adequate equipment, Nightwing." 

It's not the way he wanted to bring Jason in. Bruce, Dick knows, is on business elsewhere but who knows how long that's going to last? Still, anywhere else will be far worse and he can't simply tote Jason away and hope for the best. "Hood's going to struggle if he knows." 

Alfred sighs. "Then I suggest he doesn't wake up until after transportation." And he's not suggesting drugging Jason but he is _totally suggesting drugging Jason._ Dick isn't sure if he's giddy with relief or treachery. "Check for a head injury first," Alfred advises calmly. He's never said the word of what he wants Dick to do. Always staying on Jason's good side. Dick doesn't even care. 

He checks for a head injury. Jason's skull is intact. He's not even bleeding from anything above the neck. No knots. No bruises. The helmet saved his skull. His pupils respond normally to light. Dick jabs him with the pre-dosed sedative and hopes for the best. But Jason needs help and, come Hell or Highwater, Batman or Superman, he's going to get it to him.

Dick second guesses himself at least a hundred times before they are entering the cave. Alfred is waiting, but no one else, and Dick doesn't even have to ask before Alfred says, "Batman had urgent business in Metropolis. We can expect his return tomorrow at the soonest." 

Dick is relieved. Dick is troubled. Dick wonders if Alfred has manufactured something to keep the man out of the Cave for that long. But Jason groans a little and he edges back to his side where he's strapped against a backboard. He knows Jason is going to fight his bindings first, unaware of the potential damage to his back. He sees Alfred out of the corner of his eye, stroking Jason's hair with a fondess and a troubled expression that belongs to a father. "An x-ray will be the quickest. I would not want him to wake up in any of the more enclosed machinery."

"No," Dick agrees. Then he doesn't know what to say so he just repeats. "No. That would be bad." He realizes a moment after that he's supposed to be helping Alfred wheel the backboard over to the medical area, and so he does that. He has to retreat a safe distance for the portable x-ray machine to be used, and he's never realized how strange it is that Alfred insists on radiation safety with all the other things they come up against. But, watching the old butler move with practicality in his lead apron, Dick feels a little comforted. Jason will be fine. 

Alfred begins the rest of a medical check over as they wait for the x-ray to develop. He takes his temperature and checks his pupils. But when he starts to draw blood, Dick reaches out to still his hand. "Jason wouldn't want...that. I was with him. He's not drugged or anything. Or sick." 

He should let Alfred go ahead. He should give Bruce some insight into Jason, give him a more current blood sample in case there have been any changes since the baseline. But he knows Jason would disapprove and he's here, weirdly, for Jason. Not for Bruce. It's startling to realize. Alfred, bless him, just nods. 

"Where's Tim?" Dick asks to fill the nervous silence that has now developed between them. To prove he's still part of this family even if he's looking out for Jason's paranoia right now. 

"Out," Alfred says simply. Primly. Dick assumes it's patrol; Bruce always made him continue the routes even if Bruce was called away. 

The x-ray is developed in short order and Alfred looks first and sighs in relief. "Only a tiny fracture. The soft tissue is swelling which must be causing the pain.If we could keep him in a brace only a few days..." He looks at Dick. Dick looks back at Alfred. They both know that is not going to happen without Jason unconscious and that they can't keep an unconscious Jason in the Batcave and expect Bruce not to find out. And for all they both think Bruce and Jason need to talk, making Jason do it flat on his back and restrained isn't going to end well.

"The fuck, Dickiebird?" Jason slurs on cue. His eyelids flutter open and Dick is fast to start undoing the straps holding him completely bound. 

"You're hurt," Dick says. "Hold still. Spine damage." He might be exaggerating it a bit but Jason really could cause the damage if he started writhing around. "I'm getting you help."

"What?" Jason asks, blinking. He seems to realize where he is a moment later and Alfred places a hand on his chest write as his muscles start to tense to no doubt pitch himself onto the floor. "No! I don't want to be here!"

The worst part about drugs, Dick thinks, is coming off them. That feeling of disorientation. Of passing out one place and waking up another feeling like there is cotton in your mouth and like you've been hit over the head before someone stuffed it there.   
"It's just me, Jay," Dick tries to reassure him. "Just me and Alfred here." But he doesn't know how much of that gets through to Jason who continues to squirm and blink, trying to regain use of his limbs. Dick thinks maybe he he gave him too much sedative or there really is a head injury until he sees Jason's hands flinch to pat himself down for weapons.

"You could not have any metal on your person for the tests," Alfred tells him. "I stowed them safely and you may collect them when you leave."

"I'm leaving now," Jason argues. But there's hesitation. He's probably realized how much his back hurts with any movement at all. "Spine damage, you said?" Horror is creeping into his tone and Dick feels instantly guilty for exaggerating. 

"Just swelling and a minor fracture! You'll be fine!" Dick hastens to assure him. 

"With rest," Alfred cuts in. "At least forty-eight hours in a brace and restricted activity after that."

The silence is heavy in the cave. Jason is still testing his range of motion. Dick is watching, chewing his lower lip in a worried way. Alfred has moved on to dragging the test results over for Jason's inspection, but his gaze is hawk-like and no doubt he's ready to physically restrain Jason if it looks like he's going to hurt himself. While Alfred explains the injury and treatment, Dick is half listening and half trying not to panic that Batman will suddenly appear and that Jason will paralyze himself trying to fight back. It's a moment later he realizes in all his dark fantasies that Bruce is the instigator and Jason only reacts. 

"What if I took him to a safe house and watched him?" Dick asks and from the look both of them shoot him he must have interrupted. He rubs the back of his head. "Sorry." 

Alfred frowns and obviously doesn't like the idea. But he knows they are running out of options, too. "Perhaps the closest house? The one with a ground level entrance and if we were very careful about transport..." He turns to look Jason over. Jason is still bloody and clad only in briefs that are probably too tight for him. Alfred threw a blanket over him earlier but all the squirming has dislodged it. They appraise Jason's form and the size of the brace. 

"Hey," Jason argues. "I don't like this. I'm not a refrigerator you're trying to fit into your apartment." 

"We do have a refrigerator box upstairs," Alfred replies. It's nice, Dick thinks, to see that spark in his eyes. To see that he can banter with Jason without hesitation. 

"It would be easier than smuggling him in on a stretcher," Dick says. This idea actually has some real merit. 

"No!" Jason says. "You can't be considering this!"

They ignore him. "The back brace can be moved to a vertical position," Alfred suggests. "Strapped to a hand truck and delivered like anything else." Both of them turn their gazes to Jason, mentally measuring how big he is. How heavy. How smoothly they can transport him. 

But Dick thinks of a coffin. He thinks of the closed in space of the box. He thinks of how Jason can't sleep in the complete darkness. "Keep the top off of it," He decides. "Then we can check to make sure we aren't hurting him too much." And Jason can have light. See the sky. He doesn't have to be stubborn and unaffected. 

"Fine," Jason consents at last. "As long as it gets me out of here." And Dick likes to think Alfred has worked his magic by his presence alone. Surely Jason never would have agreed so easily if it had been Dick alone.

~*~*~

They get Jason out of the Cave. As easily as he'd come in. Easier, probably, since Dick now knows he's not one bad bump away from complete paralysis and he has Alfred helping him. 

There are a few people milling about on the street so Jason is actually a little glad of his box shelter that conceals him from prying eyes as they enter the ground floor apartment through a patio door. Dick talks loudly to try to conceal the cursing coming from the box. Refrigerators do not curse. 

Alfred makes short work of cleaning the place. It hasn't been used in a while; it's actually only ever used when there's some reason they can't go airborne and swing into a window. There's dust everywhere but the actual refrigerator is on and stocked with bottled drinks that haven't expired. There are even some food items. Jerky. Canned goods. Things for quick energy with minimal prep. 

There are even two beds. Both are in what qualifies as the bedroom and aren't as big as Dick is used to, but one is also low enough that Jason can be transferred to it with minimum fuss. The tests in the cave have shown he has full sensation and range of motion. It's good news. Probably it's all that has kept Jason docile thus far; the fact he's mobile and will remain so only if he doesn't escape and go running into the night. 

That Jason fell when he was in Gotham was good. That Jason is now trapped in Gotham is less than. 

"Hey," Dick begins, hesitant, as he walks Alfred to the door. "If you could just not mention this..." 

"Master Bruce sees everything that goes on in the Cave," Alfred replies with a shake of his head. "But I will certainly discourage him from attempting to check up on anyone. At least for the time being." 

It's better than Dick has hoped for and he impulsively gives the man a hug. Alfred takes it and pats his shoulder, humoring him as he always does. "Are you alright with this arrangement, Master Richard?" Alfred questions quietly. "I could arrange to take some away from the Manor quite discreetly if you would like to get back to Bludhaven."

Back to his cities. Back to his duties. Away from Jason. But he knows that Alfred isn't suggesting it because he thinks Jason is dangerous or because he thinks Dick will be inept at the task. Dick can appreciate it. Can appreciate the concern for him as a person. "I'll call if anything gets out of hand," Dick promises. "But I bet we'll be out of your hair as soon as the swelling goes down." Even if he has to drag Jason back to Bludhaven kicking and screaming. Shooting and...probably still screaming.

~*~*~

“I'm bored,” Jason says fifteen hours later. Jason has slept. Dick has napped. They've watched half of a series and a couple of movies. Dick has very carefully fed and watered Jason, allowing him to bend only so much that he won't choke to death on anything. They've rigged a hard plastic cradle for his spine, strips of tape holding it to his sides. It is good enough for their purposes, but not so restricting that Jason claws it off .The one he's currently wearing is probably the fifth model and so far the only one he's tolerated.

Dick doesn't answer. He's feeling a little cooped up. He's tempted to call Tim to ask him to check on Bludhaven but that would bring up too many questions. 

“Hey Dickface,” Jason half yells to him. “I said I'm bored! I need some entertainment!”

The last attempt at putting a television above Jason's head where he could see it without strain had ended in the television nearly landing on Jason's face. Dick had quickly abandoned the idea and positioned Jason on his side. But then that side went numb and he had to flip him. This was quickly becoming a lot of work. 

Maybe he should have let the television knock Jason unconscious. No one would blame him, even if they did scold him. 

“I got you that audio book,” Dick argues as he comes back into the bedroom from where he'd been hiding in the kitchen. Not hiding far enough, obviously. 

“I worked out who the murderer was two chapters in and now I'm tired of hearing about Nancy Teagarden plan her wedding,” Jason replies. “Did you time travel back twenty years to buy this?”

“I got it at the gas station down the street,” Dick replies. It was as far as he'd dared venture. 

“That would also explain it.” Jason huffs and shifts. Dick wonders for a moment if he has to pee again. That had been an even worse misadventure than the television. At least he hadn't had to aim anything for that. He knows he's seen Jason in worse states. He knows he's had that part of Jason in his mouth before. Sucking him off and helping him piss are two different horses. 

“Go to sleep,” Dick suggests. “You don't have long to go before you can move freely again.” Dick knows he would be in a worse state if he had to be in a back brace. Dick is going mad just staying in this safehouse, forget on his back and wrapped in plastic.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Jason grouses. There's a pause. “I mean, you want to be a good nursemaid to me, right? I bet you'd love to be good.” The way he hangs on the last word sounds almost obscene. Dick can't help the guilty shiver that floods through him at it. Oh, he does want to be very good for Jason. 

“You're stuck flat on your back,” Dick reasons and he's not sure if he's trying to convince himself or Jason. “We can't do anything. Even though I'm maybe the world's greatest acrobat and you're stubborn as a mule...”

“Thanks,” Jason intones flatly. “You get to be the world's greatest something and I'm a farmyard creature.”

“You could have an illustrious petting zoo career. I'd feed you my ice cream cone any day,” Dick replies. He edges over, feeling foolish because it's not like Jason can get up and bite him or chase him or anything. He leans into his field of vision. “But I did make a point.”

Jason counters his point by yanking him down by his hair and kissing him. It's a fierce kiss, surprisingly for the angle. Dick melts into it, dropping to his knees on the edge of the bed, back arching like a very pleased cat. There's pain in his scalp where Jason is pulling. His lips are subject to being gnawed on by Jason's teeth. But it feels right. It, more than anything, assures him that Jason will recover. “Okay, Goldie,” Jason murmurs when he finally pulls Dick back. “Take off your clothes, for me.”

Dick has his shirt over his head before he stops to think. He's weak to Jason. So very weak to him, and especially that _voice_ he uses when he's commanding and they haven't done anything in so long. Dick feels starved for attention and for affection. 

“I can't see you,” Jason reminds him and Dick realizes he's strayed too far from the bed. “Stand over me.” Which Dick considers dangerous, but not as dangerous as the TV. He plants his feet on either side of Jason's middle, careful not to jar the mattress too much. It's tricky to strip this way. To let Jason see him as he peels off his sweatpants and the boxer briefs beneath them. Jason smirks when he sees that Dick's cock is already showing interest and Dick, eternally, isn't sure if he should be embarrassed or pleased that Jason's noticed him. Probably what Jason had felt in his youth in Dick's shadow. 

He chases those thoughts away like a million other things about their relationship. “Well?” He asks, hands on his hips like he's proud and cocky and not all waiting with baited breath for Jason's approval. Jason, true to form, gives a low wolf whistle that makes Dick feel way too pleased with himself and sends blood rushing to his half hard cock. 

“Why don't you touch yourself for me?” It's phrased as a suggestion. Dick knows it's an order. Wnats it to be an order. Wants Jason to command this of him, knows Jason holds that power over him even when Jason can barely move. 

And Jason likes it too. Dick can see his eyes light up when he moves to comply. Jason's no doubt been worried about it. About how Dick has to take care of him like an invalid. None of them are good with losing control and Jason even less so but...well Dick can give this much back. Dick is glad to do it. 

Dick wonders if it's for himself or for Jason that his fingers curl around his erection. Just feeling those teal eyes intent on his motions makes him even harder. “Yeah,” Jason breathes softly. “Is that for me? Are you hard for me?” 

So very few things have been Jason's. Dick didn't think he'd be able to give him something and yet here they are. He's kept Jason still. He's been patient with him. Is this what comes from real understanding? Real bonding? 

“Waiting on an answer,” Jason reminds him, snapping him out of his own thoughts.”Just when I think you have more than fluff for brains you zone out on me.” 

“I save my fluff for my hair,” Dick answers back. He strokes himself a few more passes, feeling his breathing start to pick up a little. He feels too far above Jason. He misses the intimacy. But Jason wants to watch and, honestly, they're decently limited by this little injury. “What do you want to see?”

“You get off,” Jason replies like it's the easiest thing in the world. “You play with your cock. Finger yourself open. Telling me what it feels like when I order you to do these things.” 

“You just want to boss me around,” Dick murmurs and he's getting hard just listening to Jason's tone of voice. He doesn't mind and the purr Jason makes in return has him thinking Jason really doesn't mind being considered bossy, either. 

Jason grins at him. “I want you,” He says easily. “To get on your knees. To straddle my chest. To finger yourself and let me watch while you put my cock in your mouth.” 

That is...dirty. Enough to make Dick's breath catch. Enough that he rubs himself a little harder. Can it work? Jokes aside, he knows he can spread his legs far enough apart but Jason is broad and...

“A little pressure won't hurt me,” Jason says, interrupting that musing. “It's only the movement, right?” And that bastard. He's thought about this. That only makes Dick more turned on and he rubs a thumb over the head of his cock, gathering precome and smearing it down the shaft at the next stroke. It feels somehow even more intense. Dick tries to keep reasonably quiet, though he has no real reason to do so since it's not like they have anyone in the apartment, inside the sound proofing. He's just gotten comments from other partners about how he's noisy, from _Jason_ about how loud he is. He wants to prove he's something different. 

Jason doesn't seem impressed with the lack of sound. But Jason's always been observant. Dick can't hide his expressions, can't hide the way his eyes go darker while his pupils dilate and his lids lower. He can't stop the flick of his tongue to wet his lower lip and, beneath him, he can see Jason's muscles tensing and his fingers twitching against the bedsheets. “Get down here,” Jason orders, and it's nearly a growl. “Get the lube, first.”

Dick obeys. What can he do but obey? He's under Jason's spell as always. Somewhere along the line Jason's desires and Dick's have melded together. Dick grabs the small bottle and, with something not even approaching grace, drops to the bed. He steals a kiss from Jason's lips first, and Jason grunts at that but Dick sees the hint of color on his cheeks. Still uncomfortable after all this time. After all they've done. A basic show of affection has him blushing and Dick finds It endearing and maybe a little troubling. 

It occurs to Dick that he has Jason at his mercy. It occurs to him as well that he needs to be careful with the superior position because he doesn't trust Jason won't break himself trying to get away from a situation he finds uncomfortable. But at the same time, he knows an opportunity like this won't present itself. “You know what I want?” He whispers against Jason's jaw as he trails kisses there. It feels somehow obscene; telling Jason what he wants without being asked first. “Tonight, little wing, I want to hear _you_.” 

Jason protests. Of course he does. Dick smiles at him and kisses the corner of his mouth, gently guides his hands back down flat against the sides of the back brace Jason's wearing. “I'll still do what you say,” He clarifies before Jason can get too worried. “But I want to hear you.” Jason is always so quiet by comparison. Dick treasures each little gasp and grunt. 

Before the other man can protest, Dick's flipping around. He straddles Jason's bare chest, grateful now that his attempt at feeding Jason had resulted in the shirt going straight into the laundry. One less thing to worry about. Jason's sweatpants are easily pushed down, freeing his half-hard cock, and Dick feels almost victorious. He did this. He made Jason hard without even touching him. And now Jason gives him a slightly tortured groan. 

Dick, for his part, grinds his erection against Jason's chest. The texture of the scarred skin there makes him tense, makes him shiver without intending to do so as he mouths the tip of Jason. 

He enjoys it. God, but he enjoys it. Jason's chest and abs are nearly as muscular as his thighs and Dick has entertained more than a few fantasies of getting off by grinding against his thick legs. It takes him a few tries to get Jason's cock adequately in his mouth but when he manages it he appreciates the change of angle. He enjoys the way he can get to all of Jason's most sensitive spots this way. 

He knows Jason is watching him. Knows his eyes are fixated on the way Dick fingers open his hole for him. At his instruction. On his order. A quick thrust of his fingers and he can feel Jason's sharp inhalation of breath. A swirl of his tongue around Jason's glans and the breath releases in a moan. Dick likes this. Likes these stolen bits of power. 

He gets into it, too. Into seeing how much of Jason's cock fits down his throat at this angle. Into how slick of a path he can make, thrusting against Jason's skin, grinding against him. He counts moans from Jason, relies on the tensing and relaxing of his muscles to tell him how much Jason is enjoying himself since he can't see his face. And all the while his leg is hitched up, his fingers working steadily inside him. He spreads his ass for Jason's pleasure, hears a rumble that feels like a purr. 

"Get to that place inside you, Dickie," Jason murmurs. "I know you want to." And Dick does really want to, but he's not sure if that's by choice of by Jason's suggestion. Either way he pushes his fingers deeper, curls them harder. Prostate stimulation isn't so easily done on your own and from this bizarre angle. "Waiting," Jason singsongs to him and Dick can't reply with Jason in his mouth so he swallows around him to make him cut himself off with a choked cry. 

Pleased, Dick can focus on himself. Stretching fingers deeper, pitching his hips up and... _there_. He groans around the length stretching his mouth and he can feel his erection buck against Jason. 

Those are the only indications, and those are enough for Jason to moan and praise him. "Good boy. I knew you could do it." And the praise makes him feel so good, so warm, that Dick could come right there. He's forgotten somewhere in the process of this that he's doing exactly what Jason says and he's increasingly happy to do it. If he obeys, he's rewarded with pleasure. He's told he's good. Dick wants to obey, Dick wants to feel good, and Dick wants to be good. "Get me off," Jason whispers. "Then you can come." 

It's like the first time. And that first time has certainly played through Dick's head often enough. He's enthusiastic. One hand stays curled around Jason, keeps him from bucking his hips. The other is buried inside him and Dick pitches his hips restlessly to get more friction for himself to move and more of Jason in his mouth. Jason's big. Especially like this. Dick is moaning at the challenge, drooling, using more of his tongue than he usually does to make up for the lack of depth. Jason likes it when he drags the flat of it against the slit of his dick. Jason actually yelps when Dick cups his balls in his palm and gives them a little squeeze. Well, that's one way to keep Jason on his back; literally holding him by the balls. 

It's too much. Dick feels like he had when he was blindfolded. Jason is in all of his senses. The taste and feel and smell of him dominate anything else and each push of his own fingers isn't to please only himself but to please Jason.

Which is how Dick gets an idea. That's not something that happens frequently in the throes of passion. Dick starts to tease him. Starts to pair each shove of his fingers deep into his ass with a loud, lewd suck of Jason. Like he's fucking through him. 

"Fuck," Jason breathes the third time he does it. "Fuck!"

It's not enough warning. The word and the feel of Jason's balls drawing up is so fast that he can't prepare. Dick chokes when Jason comes. A rope of it hits a tonsil and when Jason is dragging out of his mouth it spreads everywhere. Along his tongue. Over his lips. Down his chin. Dick's given himself a facial without meaning to, but he's back on Jason's cock in an instant to drag out the orgasm as long as possible. His hips rock desperately, enough that Dick hopes he's not injuring Jason further, and he presses his finger against that bundle of nerves one last time. 

That's it. He comes all over Jason's chest and belly. Surprisingly he hears Jason moan again as he does it. He never would have guessed that to be a particular pleasure point, but he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

They're both panting and exhausted. Dick has sagged against Jason and he can feel the expansion of his chest and belly as he fights to catch his breath, which at least stirs Dick enough to move. He removes his fingers with a sound too lewd to be sexy and and vault himself off Jason without catching on the splint. It's a near thing, however.

"Ugh," Jason comments. "I think you just slung jizz on me."

Dick snorts. "You came all over my face. I'd stop whining if I were you." 

"Not like I can aim with this thing on," Jason argues. "And besides, look what you did to my chest."

"So you shouldn't be complaining about a little more." Dick grins, triumphant. But he does pat the table beside the bed for some wet wipes. They have advertising for a chicken wings restaurant and he shudders to think at how old they are but they do the job of cleaning up his face and Jason's torso. 

Meeting the younger man's teal eyes, he's struck by the role reveral all over again. Jason hates being taken care of. Even after sex, it's usually Jason who cleans them both up. Typically because Dick is too worn out to move but...

"Your phone buzzed," Jason says lazily. There's a soft grin on his face that Dick loves. "In the middle of things." And there's his accent, too. Dick leans to kiss the corner of Jason's mouth and just gets a snort in response. Better than a punch. Still, Dick feels elated that sex, relatively vanilla by their standards, can put Jason at ease so much. 

"They can wait," Dick argues. But now that he looks at his phone he can see the screen lighting up insistently. He sighs heavily. "Probably Alfie making sure I'm watering you and giving you enough sun."

"I think he knows I'm not a houseplant by now," Jason says. He stretches, as well as he can with unforgiving plastic against him. Dick takes mercy on him, on his constant need to occupy his brain post coitus, and turns on the television as he retrieves his phone and his boxers.  

He wiggles into his underwear as he checks his messages. There are a couple of missed calls from Alfred. One voicemail. But there's also an encrypted text and that's concerning because very few people send him those and it's never good. 

The picture, after he secures the line and types in a password, is fairly innocuous. Something that looks like a pebble and Dick doesn't understand why Tim (it is Tim. He's relieved) sent it to him.

"Hey!" Jason calls out. "Can I get some water and the remote?"

Dick snorts, a smile on his lips until he reads Tim's message. 

 **/Found this in medical area. Sophisticated. Recording device. Can disrupt electronics./** There's nothing else. No accusation. No speculation. No questions. But Dick knows, in the pit of his stomach, that the only people who have been in the medical area in the past three days are himself, Alfred, and Jason. 

"Diiiiickiiiiieeee," Jason calls again. Trying purposefully to whine. Trying to goad Dick into actually doing something for him. _He can't fake a spinal fracture,_ Dick reminds himself as he goes to the refrigerator for some water and a straw. 

But he recalls the way Jason fell. Recalls how, before he'd fully tipped off the roof, Dick hadn't been at all concerned because even Jason had decent enough balance to stay upright. He stares at the kitchen wall, replaying the way Jason fell in his head. Back curved. Twisting. Unnatural. 

Unless you were intending to fall a certain way. 

Dick knew a lot about falling. He'd seen his parents fall. And from Jason's? He'd turned away. He hadn't wanted to watch and so he didn't and...

No. Jason wouldn't break his own spine to get access to the Batcave. That was stupid. Not when he could come in another way. 

"What's wrong?" Jason asks when Dick edges back into the bedroom to fluff his pillow and help him drink. "You look pale." There's a hint of wariness in his tone. Not suspicion, Dick thinks, but Jason is always waiting for the other shoe to drop whenever he's happy. 

And Jason's _happy_ right now. He's relaxed; Dick can see it plainly.  Dick made him _happy_.

"Nothing," Dick answers. "Just a bad lead on a case. Has to happen sometimes, right?" 

"Yeah," Jason agrees after drinking probably half the bottle of water. "Nothing in life is ever easy." 

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews/Suggestions/Comments/Questions always read and adored. Drop me a note [here](https://strikeyourcolors.tumblr.com/ask) if you'd rather! Prompts are always open, though can't be guaranteed.


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